"But the dream, the echo, slips from him as quickly as he had found it and as consciousness comes to him (a slap and not the gentle waves of oceanic tides), it dissolves entirely. His muscles relax as the cold claims him again, as the numbness sets in, and when his grey eyes open, there’s nothing but the faint after burn of a dream often trod and never remembered." --Brigade, written by Laura
all of my devils are free at last all my secrets revealed
She slips through the aging trunks of the forest, leaves fluttering about her, the air crisp and redolent with the scent of autumn. The trees here are old, the bark gnarled and thick. She loves the ancient feel of this place, the thought of oaks and birches with memories as old as time. Sometimes, she wishes she could tap into those long-lived plants. Could see and feel the past in the way that they once had.
It is a foolish dream perhaps, the naivete of a girl who has never quite aged properly. But then, that is a nearly perfect description of Divide. A young mare with purple skin and gray tresses, both too young and too old all at once.
A faint smile stretches the corners of her lips as she picks an aimless path through her favorite part of the forest. She thinks of Time, of the day everything had stilled, of the lovely woman she had tried so valiantly to rescue and the end of existence itself. And she thinks of Orion, the charming stallion she had met upon her return. So noble and good. Far too good for one such as her, she is certain.
The leaves crunch beneath her hooves as the soft trilling of birds still brave enough to skirt the thinning leaves echoes a sweet melody in her ears. Her gray eyes slide past the landscape before catching on a shadow before her. A shadow that moves.
She thinks nothing of it, instead allowing a gentle smile to curve her lips and a quiet, questioning ”Hello?” to fall into the autumn air in welcome.
If asked what is Time? It is without question that the two young mares would have two very different answers. That would not make either incorrect though. SImply put, Ecco would respond with ‘Mother’,but that was for a very different reason.
That, coupled with immortality, left Ecco lacking proper respects for Time itself. Life went on, at least for her and really- what else matters?
There is not enough for her to do to feel that endless existence. Barely anything to fill her need for destruction, and it has become draining to the psyche. Ecco needed someone to crush, because Deimos simply wouldn’t bend. Yet she had allowed him to dig a trench in her heart, to spill her emotions like blood and she lapped it like a kitten to cream- mewling for more. But heat and sweat only did so much for her, carnal sensation was not enough, she was a glutton and greed coursed through her veins.
Call it genetics if you will.
Autumn pleases her, along with Winter, they both drain the world of life and that is something to smile about. Everything came to a proper state in which it no longer thrived. She would help it along, here and there, sending tall aspens to black statues against the otherwise vivid forest.
Against the purple.
Purple
That’s why she notices her so quickly, her mind was trained to find it, something that shouted family, familiarity. It’s not one of them though, upon closer inspection this becomes evident. Oh, but she is so lovely.
Hello? she asks in welcome.
“Hello,” Ecco hums, emerging from the wood like mist, heavy lidded and sultry. “Where did you get this?” she asks, placing her lavender lips to the girl’s coat. It was riddled with accusations. This doesn’t belong to you, who did you take it from?
ECCO
[..we don't deal with outsiders very well..]
HTML by Call
let me know if little touchy is not ok and call will change
